What Might Have Been
by Alseid
Summary: (IN PROGRESS) 3rd chapter added. A rather odd AU fic, where Tom Riddle is a professor at Hogwarts and Harry is in Slytherin.
1. Prologue

I might continue this, but I'm writing another fic with a lot of chapters right now. I probably   
won't continue this (if I actually do) until after the other story is finished unless I get a lot of  
reviews telling me they'll kill me if I don't continue (which I *really* don't expect).   
  
  
- - - -  
  
  
"What Might Have Been"  
  
Professor Thomas Riddle sorted through the multitude of  
parchments that cluttered his desk.  
  
"And may I ask why your parchment is blank, Ms. Granger?"  
  
The young Gryffindor scowled and took the parchment from  
him. Her mouth opened in horror and she shouted indignantly,  
"But-but-but I-I wrote it!! I spent three hours writing it!"  
  
"Is this some type of joke?" he sneered, eyeing Ron Weasley,  
who was snickering on the opposite side of the room. "Your  
housemate seems to think this is funny."  
  
He waved his wand over the parchment carelessly and  
neatly-scrawled writing began to appear before their eyes.  
  
"Ten points from Gryffindor." he sneered, "for this *pathetic*  
excuse of a joke."  
  
"But I-"  
  
"You *obviously* didn't write this in normal ink, Granger. Otherwise,  
it would appear normally. And- oh look, it dissappeared again.   
Ten more points."  
  
"But Professor, I didn't do this!"  
  
He ignored her, sorting through the other parchments.  
  
"Class, you are dismissed."  
  
Hermione hastily picked up her bookbag and stormed out of the classroom.  
  
"Ron Weasley, you little-"  
  
She was cut off by uproarious laughter. 


	2. Trouble

Ron was collapsing with laughter, his face red as a beet.   
  
"Your face," he wheezed, "was priceless. Absolutely priceless."  
  
Hermione glared at Ron, her eyes blazing.  
  
"Well, it cost Gryffindor twenty points for your little prank, I want you to know.   
If we lose the house cup- AGAIN to Slytherin- I swear I will never forgive you,   
Ron Weasley."  
  
Ron's laughter had diminished into a satisfied grin, but his amusement was   
clearly visible.   
  
"Still, 'Mione, it was worth it."  
  
She rolled her eyes, turned around- and walked into Harry Potter.  
  
"Well Draco," he said, his emerald green eyes flashing, "it seems we've missed  
a wonderful joke."  
  
Draco Malfoy stepped up beside Harry and smirked. "Apparently. Do explain, Granger.  
I'm sure we'd both be delighted to hear what it was."  
  
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. They'd been torturing her and Ron since they'd been in  
Hogwarts. Naturally, the two rich, snobby, purebloods would groups together, but  
their liknesses were strange. They each had the same cold glare and the same smug  
smirk (alliteration! hehe...). They'd been best friends since the first year, picking on   
everyone from muggleborns to Hufflepuffs when the teachers had their backs   
turned.  
  
They always received excellent grades though, earning their house points constantly.  
  
It was so *irritating*.  
  
"Shove it, Malfoy," Hermione retorted, avoiding Potter's glare. "That goes for you too,  
Potter."  
  
His eyes narrowed.  
  
"I'd watch your mouth, mudblood."  
  
Ron reached for his wand, but Draco already had his out.  
  
"Make another move for your wand, Weasley, and I'll make that mop of red hair on  
top of your head a lovely shade of Slytherin green."  
  
It was jus tat that opportune moment Professor Riddle left his classroom and stumbled  
upon the scene.  
  
"May I ask what is going on?" he said in a slow, accusatory manner that teachers seem  
to inherit.  
  
Before Hermione or Ron could do anything, Draco launched into explanation.  
  
"You see Professor," he began, "We were heading toward your classroom to ask a question  
about our assignment when we saw Granger and Weasley laughing about something. We  
simply inquired what it was they were laughing about, and they started insulting us."  
  
Riddle pursed his lips. "I see... twenty points from Gryffindor then."  
  
"But-" Ron started, his cheeks now pale.  
  
"I'd suggest you go to your next class, Mr. Weasley, before you cause more trouble than you  
already have," he sneered and watched the pair walk down the corridor. 


	3. Potions a la Edinns

-  
  
What Might Have Been  
Chapter Three  
  
-  
  
"Riddle has always favoured those in Slytherin," Ron began to rant to Hermione, as soon as they were out   
of earshot of the Professor. "It's just *sickening* the way he awards them points for hardly lifting a finger.  
And then there's Edinns, the new Potions professor. She's bordering his level of Slytherin-favour, but I don't  
think anyone can go as low as he does."  
  
Hermione took her eyes off of the floor and sighed.   
  
"I wish we could keep a Potions master- its as if the job is cursed, or something. First there was Ridcully,  
the inept scatterbrain, who sent at least one student to the hospital a class," she said, remembering her  
first year.  
  
Ron nodded in agreement.  
  
"Then there was Woodes, who really wasn't that bad, other than smoking cigars and puffing the fumes into  
our faces."  
  
"After that, we had Lockhart," Hermione fondly said as Ron groaned loudly.  
  
"The biggest self-worshipper known to the wizarding world."  
  
"Last year, there was Coates. He must have been related to Binns because no one that I know besides those  
two can even succeed in putting an entire class to sleep in the first five minutes of the class."   
  
"So... at least the teacher this year isn't an inept, cigar smoking, self-promoting, boring Professor," said Ron  
helpfully.  
  
"Almost as bad, though," Hermione muttered, shaking her head.  
  
"I wish it were the Defense Against the Dark Arts class that was cursed with a streak of ever-changing   
teachers," Ron hopefully said. "Then we wouldn't have to stare at that sour face every day."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "If you honestly think that's going to happen, think again. Riddle has been teaching at  
Hogwarts practically since he graduated." She paused, then got a funny look on her face, as if she were   
contemplating something. "His grades were the highest Hogwarts has ever seen; his N. E. W. T. records  
have been standing for fifty years."  
  
"Someone has too much free time on their hands, it seems. Done a lot of research on Riddle-kins, have we  
Hermione?"  
  
"Oh, just shut up. Look, we better hurry or we'll be late to Potions."  
  
"And wouldn't that be *such* a shame."  
  
They changed their steady stroll into a quick stride, and barely arrived in the dungeons, just as Professor   
Edinns entered the room.   
  
The teacher was short, smaller than most of her students, and solidly built, with a face that was neither   
attractive nor unattractive, but looked like it would be better suited to a smirk or a sneer.   
  
"Hello, class," she said, not looking up as she put a bookbag full of papers on the desk. "Today," she smirked,  
"is the day of your scholarship test."  
  
There was a collective groan, and a gasp from Hermione.  
  
"But-but," she stammered in a whisper, "But I didn't study!"  
  
The rest of the class wore similar expressions as Edinns explained further.  
  
"Yes, I realize that I haven't told you, and that's the point of the test. It's based solely on what you know *now*,  
not after countless hours of studying things that you'll likely forget. The two students with the highest scores on the  
test will receive the scholarships to Edmonton Wizarding College in Ireland. I wish you good luck, and as soon as you  
get your test, you may start."  
  
The multitude of quills scratched the parchment furiously.  
  
Off to the races, Ron thought glumly, and began to write his name on the top of the sheet.  
  
-  
  
Ron was a quarter of the way through when Hermione proudly placed her quill on the desk and went up to hand the  
completed test to Edinns.  
  
Pause.  
  
"Ms. Granger?" Edinns asked slowly. "Aren't you forgetting to put your name on it?"  
  
Hermione smiled uneasily.  
  
"I'm sorry Professor, let me do that."  
  
The teacher grinned nastily at her for a second. "Don't bother, Granger. I'll just take five points off of the grade."  
Scanning the answers briefly, she marked the grade at the top of the page: 95. "Not bad, Granger, five points away  
from a perfect score."  
  
Hermione paled; Edinns wore a look of semi-disguised enjoyment. 


End file.
